


Sympathy for the Devil

by spanglemaker9



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglemaker9/pseuds/spanglemaker9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Andy builds her new life, she finds that her experiences at Runway aren't so easy to leave behind. Neither is a certain handsome journalist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sympathy for the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> I watched The Devil Wears Prada on cable twice last week and started to have fic-ish thoughts about a rather under-appreciated pairing. Before I knew it, I'd written 8K words on my phone.

Had Nate always been such a ... snob?

They'd dated for nearly five years—well, four and a half if you subtracted the time they'd spent broken up. But she _knew_ him. She'd known him for years. They'd lived together. How had she missed this streak of smug superiority in him? And always over the most ridiculous things. The box of instant mac and cheese he'd found in her cabinet (hey, sometimes when you get home after a hard day, nothing is better than that bright orange cheesy comfort food), the song on the radio that she'd turned up and danced to, the time she wanted to see the new Marvel movie instead of the art house film he picked. He'd sigh and his words would stretch out, each drawled vowel condemning her pedestrian tastes.

"Weeelll, I gueeeess. If that's reeeaaally what you're into..."

It annoyed her, but they were such tiny things and she really didn't want to fight. Nate had given her another chance and they were trying to make a go of it. Between Boston and New York, his job and hers, their time together was slight. She didn't want to waste it bickering over a TV show she liked and he hated.

Maybe it was her problem anyway. After all, the reason they split was that she'd lost her way. She'd become a person neither of them recognized. Nate was the one who'd stayed just as he was, so the fault was likely hers. They just needed to get used to each other again, find their old groove. They'd been really good together once and she was confident they would be again. She just needed to remember who she'd been and find her way back to that girl.

The problem was, the year she'd spent in another life kept popping up to remind her. She'd moved to a crummy apartment share in Queens, traded her pencil skirts and spike heels for jeans and boots and given up chauffeured limos for riding the subway to the small, earnest paper she worked at, but Runway seemed to dog her every step.

One day in the newsroom she'd run into a freelance feature writer she'd known at Runway as he was turning in a piece to her editor. Another time, it was a Runway photographer shooting an event that she was covering at the mayor's office. He used his pull with Security to get her a one-on-one with the deputy mayor. One night when she was out for drinks with a couple of fellow reporters, they ran into colleagues from another paper. As introductions were made and it came out that she'd just finished a year as Miranda's assistant, she didn't miss the shift in the group, the way everyone was subtly impressed by her past and assessing her with new eyes. The reason she'd taken the Runway job in the first place was to make contacts that would help her in her career and weirdly, that seemed like exactly what was happening.

And she couldn't deny that she was better at her job because of her Runway experience. The Andrea of a year ago had been earnest and eager but woefully naive and inexperienced. Miranda had put her through hell, but now on the other side, she could acknowledge that she was tough, seasoned, and resourceful in a way she had never been before. Nothing scared her. No one intimidated her. She'd faced The Dragon and survived. A surly supervisor at the MTA who didn't want to give her a quote was a piece of cake in comparison.

So when Nate made snide comments about Miranda, Runway, or the fashion industry (and he did it _all_ the time... let it go already) she bristled. When Lily made some snarky quip about Andy's seduction by the dark side, she had to suppress the urge to tell Lily that she wouldn't last an hour in that job, never mind nearly a year.

Only Doug seemed to get it. Over drinks one night she found herself getting heated in defense of Miranda, pointing out (yet again) that nobody would call her a dragon or a bitch if she was a man. Doug reached out and put his hand over hers.

"Andy."

"Yeah?"

"You're totally right."

She expelled the deep breath she'd taken to continue her diatribe. "I am?"

"Absolutely. Andy, you survived one of the most notoriously tough jobs in New York, and you kicked ass at it. You don't need to apologize for that. You should be proud as hell of it."

"I am. But Doug, I almost lost all of you because of it. You and Lily. I _did_ lose Nate."

 He rolled his eyes. "First of all, you were never going to lose me. I was jealous as hell of your job. I'm still in mourning about the lost swag. And second, don't let Lily and Nate get to you. I love them but you and I both know they can be a little precious about stuff like this. I mean, Lily's an _artist_ , for chrissakes. What does she know about making a name for yourself in corporate America?"

"I never wanted to make a name for myself in that world. I was right to leave. What I'm doing now feels right for me in a way that never did."

"You're right, but that doesn't negate the good you took away from the experience. Because you're better for having done it, aren't you?"

She thought about it for a second. "Yeah. Yeah I am better for it.”

"Then it was worth it, no matter what anybody else tries to tell you. Don’t forget it."

 

  
<0>

 

  
She ran into Christian Thompson again in line at a Starbucks. She'd been reading a magazine as the line inched forward, so absorbed that she didn't even notice him behind her until she was giving her order. His head snapped up as soon as he heard her voice and he touched her arm.

"Andrea. Hi."

She started, turned to look at him, then had a momentary flash of memory of him naked and lying over her in bed, then she flushed with embarrassment and awkwardness and began to stammer helplessly.

"Oh... Christian... Um... Hi... It's been.... um… It's good...."

Christian's attention shifted momentarily to the barista.

"Venti red eye. And I'll get the lady's as well."

"You don't have to... You shouldn't..." Why couldn't she form a complete sentence? She was beginning to panic at her sudden inability to function in his presence.

"Of course I do," he said smoothly, because he was Christian and always smooth. "Do you have a minute to sit and talk?"

The barista handed over her coffee, which she nearly dropped because apparently her motor skills had deserted her as well. "Um... I shouldn't…”

"Come on," he said with a beguiling smile. "Just a cup of coffee."

She hesitated. She did have time, actually. She'd been planning on staying to go over her notes from her interview that morning. It was just a cup of coffee in a Starbucks. No harm, right? She felt a little disloyal. She'd slept with this man and now she was back with Nate. But she hadn't cheated on Nate. Christian happened on the break. And it wasn't like she was planning to sleep with him again. Of course not. It was just coffee. She _had_ been curious about how he'd faired in that whole Runway blow up. Now was her chance to find out.

"Okay," she heard herself saying. "I can stay for a few minutes."

They sat on stools at the bar that ran along the front window overlooking Murray Street.

"You look good," Christian said as soon as he'd shrugged out of his coat and sat down. "How are you doing?"

"Um, I'm great." She'd said "um" more in the past five minutes than she had in the whole of her life. "I'm working for the New York Mirror."

"Writing?"

She nodded. "I'm coming in at the bottom, so nothing too groundbreaking, but I love the organization."

He smiled. Damn, he really did have the most devastating smile. She'd left Christian behind, all tangled up with Runway and Miranda and her massive life crisis and done her very best not to think about him. For the most part she hadn't. In the first weeks after Paris she'd decided he'd been just a symptom of her crisis of self-discovery, a freakish aberration best forgotten. But the other thing she'd forgotten was how stunningly attractive he was, and the way he made her feel, all fluttery and blushing and scattered. God, this man was a menace.

"Sounds like a perfect fit for you. Congratulations, Andy."

Right. They were talking about her new job, not her jumping pulse.

"It is. I'm really happy. How about you? How are things with you?"

He shrugged and smiled again. "I'm always good." Then he looked down at his coffee cup, which was good because she's forgotten those potent blue eyes and his habit of making eye contact for every minute of the conversation. It was unnerving. "I'm glad I ran into you today, Andy. I've been feeling like I might owe you an apology."

She wasn't expecting that. "You have?"

"I didn't really stop to think how the proposed Runway reshuffle would look to you. I underestimated your loyalty to Miranda. I didn't think you'd go to bat for her like that. So yes, I get why you were so mad at me. Why you think I might have betrayed you. And for that I'm sorry. I tried to call you when I got back from Paris but I couldn’t get through to you on your cell."

"Oh." Of course he couldn’t reach her cell. It was at the bottom of a fountain in Paris.

He waited a moment and then smirked. "That's all I get? I know you, Andy, and I suspect there's a lot more going on in your head than that. Let me have it."

She shook her head slightly. "No, it's just... I appreciate the apology, but I'm not sure it's necessary."

Christian's eyebrows shot up. "It's not? You seemed pretty furious at me when you stormed out of that hotel room in Paris."

Aaaannd now she was blushing. How did he refer to that night so blithely, with not a hint of embarrassment at all?

"Yes, I was pretty mad at you at the time. I'm not sure I realized how loyal I was to Miranda until I knew she was about to be screwed over. I kind of lost my head."

"It's okay. Your loyalty was...refreshing. Especially in this business. So what changed? You went charging in there to save her and the next thing I know I heard you quit."

Andy chuckled. "I realized that Miranda didn't need saving, by me or anyone else. And I realized that my loyalty wasn't going to get me anywhere in the long run. I saw that first hand." She thought of Nigel and hoped he knew what he was doing, steadfastly clinging to Miranda and hoping to one day be rewarded for it. She doubted he ever would be.

"That's the other thing I was wrong about. I underestimated Miranda Priestly, and so did Jacqueline. You were right about her. She's as tough as they come. And her reputation is deserved. I mean that in a good way."

"Since you ended up on the receiving end of the Miranda treatment, I guess you know better than anyone."

"Hey," Christian held his hands up. "In my defense, Jacqueline put that deal together. She sold Herb on the idea of her heading US Runway. Then she invited me on board. Why was I supposed to be loyal to Miranda?"

"No, I get it. I do. Jacqueline offered you a really great job. Miranda wasn't your concern. It's just business."

"And Miranda plays hardball."

"That she does. So how did you fare in that mess?"

"My career didn't implode, if that's what you're asking. Yeah, I've been blackballed by Miranda, but contrary to her own opinion, she's not the only game in town. That job would have been great, but I've always got other irons in the fire. I just wrote a piece for The New Yorker and I'm researching something for New Republic right now. I'm fine."

“Good. I'm glad to hear it."

Christian leaned back and took a sip of his coffee, watching Andrea over the rim. "So, are we friends again?"

"Christian, I'm not sure we were ever friends. You were too busy flirting with me."

"I'm not going to apologize for finding you attractive. And I'm going to take exception to that first part. Of course we’re friends. We have a lot in common."

"We do?"

"Didn't you confess to adoring my book the first time we met? And didn't I read your writing samples and tell you I thought you had talent? I wasn't bullshitting you about that. It's true."

"So..."

"So... We're both journalists. We admire each other's work. I think that makes us at least colleagues. And yeah, I'd like to be your friend, too."

Andy set her coffee down very carefully. "Just so you know, I'm back together with Nate."

"Ah. Is that the boyfriend's name? Well, unless being with Nate means you don't like my writing anymore, I don't see how that changes anything. We're still friends."

He reached his hand out to hers to shake. Andy stared at it. Friends with Christian.

 Everything he'd said was more or less true. And he took the news of Nate in stride, so maybe he meant it. Christian probably had a long line of girls he slept with once who were now just friends. This was probably very comfortable territory for him. And he was right about being colleagues. He was someone she'd definitely like to keep in her life for that reason. The stammering and the butterflies were just a pesky holdover from their initial encounters that she was just going to have to manage.

She put her hand in his. "Okay, friends."His fingers curled around her hand, his palm warm against hers. She felt it all along her chest and in places that had nothing to do with a handshake, and she knew she was probably making a very unwise decision. But she couldn't bring herself to care.

 

<0>

  
  
Christian made good on the friendship promise. Almost immediately he began texting her, often at least once a day. Sometimes it was about something she'd be interested in, a story he was working on or a news article that had just hit. Other times it was just random observations about something happening in his day. Sometimes she answered, sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes the texting led to phone calls. She tried to make sure those stayed about work. It seemed safer that way.

As they re-established themselves as colleagues, she remembered the things about Christian that she'd forgotten when she'd first met the gorgeous, flirty reality of him. He was wickedly smart, and she truly admired his writing. After all, she'd reviewed his book long before she ever met him. She grew to value his opinion on the things they discussed and a few times she sent him something she was working on to get his feedback. His comments were always insightful and spot-on, finding problematic passages with laser-like accuracy and he always had really great, creative fixes.

Once or twice if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, they'd grab coffee or lunch. And it was... friendly. He flirted, of course, because that's who Christian was. Smooth, urbane, charming and a deadly flirt. But he didn't lay a hand on her and he never crossed a line. Their dynamic would have been perfect if Andrea could stop thinking about Paris. Christian's re-entry into her life had stirred up memories she'd thought she'd left behind. Strolling through the dark, empty rain-soaked Paris streets holding hands, Christian surprising her with a kiss as she twirled around and proclaimed her love for the city, his hands on her face, in her hair, as he kissed her and convinced her to stop running from him and give in to their undeniable attraction. And then she _had_ given in to it. And it was great. And now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was embarrassing because Christian seemed fine. Outside of his default flirty setting, that night seemed entirely forgotten. Knowing him, it probably was. Just another girl, just another night in Paris. But knowing he'd left it behind wasn't doing a thing to help _her_ leave it behind.

Plus she was keeping him a secret from Nate, which was probably not good. Nate knew there had been someone during their breakup. She suspected he'd had a flirtation of his own during those months. But she hadn’t told him who it was and she hadn't told him she was now hanging out with the guy. They were just friends but the fact that she felt like she couldn't tell Nate probably meant it was less blameless than she wanted it to be.

Things were confusing right now. Things with Nate, things with her friends, things with Christian, who was also, improbably, her friend. Thinking about it just made her more confused so mostly, she tried not to.

 

<0>

 

“I got a call from Jacqueline Follet today,” Christian said casually as he took a sip of his Scotch. He’d had a late meeting near the paper and had texted her when he was done. She was just finishing up work so they met at a bar nearby for a quick drink before she headed home to Queens.

Andy nearly choked on her wine. “Jacqueline? What did she want?”

“To offer me a job.”

“Again?”

“Sort of. Vanity Fair is doing a profile of James Holt in advance of the big expansion. A whole lot of positive exposure for James and the label, of course, but wrapped up in a larger piece about the intersection of fashion and commerce. They’re setting aside a lot of space for it, too. Eight thousand words. Jacqueline wants to put me forward for it.”

“Wow. That’s pretty big.” Andy was always slightly shocked when little reminders of Christian’s status as a writer came up. He was a big deal in their world, but it was easy to forget it when he spent time with her. He never threw it in her face. He wasn’t even bragging right now. He seemed to just be telling her about his day.

Christian smirked and sipped his drink. “I think it’s her peace offering, since she left me high and dry when she bailed on Runway.”

Andy looked down at her drink, trying to sound nonchalant. “What did you say?”

“I told her no thanks.”

“What? Why did you do that?”

“Eh, it’s high profile but it’s essentially a puff piece. I don’t know….it just didn’t feel right.”

Andy laughed. “Are you Christian Thompson? Seriously, that doesn’t sound like you.”

“No, it sounds more like you.”

She sobered and stared at him. “What’s that mean?”

“If it had been you, you would have turned her down.”

"Yeah, but you’re not me.”

“No, but I think I’d like to be more like you. I told you, I was really impressed when you went to bat for Miranda. Nobody does that in this business. And that’s a shame. I just think…I’d like to be proud of a choice I made. I’d like to feel like I made the right choice, not just the advantageous one.”

"Wow, Christian, that’s…”

“Not what you expected of me?”

“Yeah. Not at all.”

He grinned. “Good.”

 

<0>

 

 

 _-What are you doing tonight?  
  
-I told you I have a boyfriend.  
  
-Not _ that _. Give me some credit. My friend Pete and I were supposed to go to Mike Perlman’s talkback at the 92nd Street Y about his Watergate book, but Pete can't make it. You want to come?_  
  
She really did want to go. They'd both read that book and had talked about it extensively. Christian knew she'd be interested and he happened to have a chance for her to go. His offer was so matter-of-fact and harmless, so she said yes without a second thought.

The talk was great and because Christian knew everybody, they ran into some people from Perlman’s publisher he was friends with. The conversation was interesting and before she knew it, they'd been invited to the private dinner for Perlman at a restaurant around the corner. It was nearly midnight, after cocktails and tapas and wine and dinner and dessert and after dinner drinks. She was sitting next to Christian, his knee against hers, his arm draped casually across the back of her chair, almost but not quite touching her. He'd been refilling her glass whenever he refilled his. They'd been sharing bites off each other's plates all night long. Christian's friends were smart, funny and well-informed. The conversation swooped from passionate political arguments to raucous laughter and back again. It was the most fun she remembered having in ages.

That's when her phone rang. It was Nate. She was sure in an instant that she couldn't talk to him now. She knew she'd sound guilty, like she'd been caught at something. And that was bad.

She sat up, rubbing her fingers across her forehead and scowling at her phone, fighting back waves of anxiety and guilt. Christian glanced over at her. "Do you need to take that?"

"Um, no. But I should go. It's late."

She started to stand and he did too. "I'll walk you to the subway."

"No, Christian, you should stay and talk to your friends."

"After tonight I'm pretty sure they're your friends, too. And you're _my_ friend. And I'm not letting you walk to the subway alone. I would insist on paying for your cab home but I know you well enough to know you'd refuse."

"You would be right about that."

"Then let me feel like a gentleman and make sure you get to the train."

"Okay, fine."

They walked to the subway in silence, shoulders brushing now and then.

"Hey, is everything okay? You got very quiet."

"It's complicated."

"I'm your friend. I can do complicated."

"Yeah, no way am I talking to you about this."

"Ah. It's about the boyfriend."

“Nate."

"Nate." He clicked his tongue on the final consonant.

"It's just..."

"Go on."

"We broke up because he felt like I'd changed at Runway, lost sight of who I was. And he was right. Then I quit and got my head on straight and we decided to start over."

"But..."

"I still haven't turned back into who I was before."

Christian pulled back slightly in surprise. "Why would you _want_ to?"

"What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I was too pathetic before or something?"

"Not at all. I'm sure that the earnest college grad who landed that job at Runway was an admirable person. But Andy, why would you want to come out of an experience like your past year just to be the exact same person you were before? Because then there was no point to any of it. Of course you changed. That's what experiences are supposed to do to you."

"Yeah, I get that. But I'm not sure he likes this new version of me quite as much."

Christian smirked. "Then that's his loss. Because I think this version of you is pretty fantastic. Everybody at dinner tonight thought so, too. You're just beginning to show the world what you can do, Andy. Don't strangle yourself before you even get started."

"And that's what you think I'm doing with Nate."

He shrugged. "That's for you to say. I don't even know the guy."

"Oh my _god_ , why am I even talking to you about this? You're like the last person I should be baring my soul to." She swatted at his arm and he ducked away, laughing. Then he caught her hand and sobered.

"I'm glad you did, though. I'm glad you felt like you could." His thumb rubbed across her knuckles and she knew it was really time to go home.

"Okay, well thanks for tonight. It was amazing on so many levels."

"Any time. I'm really glad Pete couldn't make it and you were here instead. This was fun."

"Yeah it was."

He took a step closer, into her personal space, and she panicked, thinking he was going to kiss her and not knowing if she wanted that or not. But in the end, he didn't. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, which wreaked havoc on her hormones just the same.

"Goodnight, Andrea. And while we're talking about experiences that change a person, I can tell you, you've definitely been one of those for me."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on."

"I'm serious."

She looked into his face and knew he was telling the truth. Christian was a consummate charmer, but none of that was in evidence tonight. His expression, made shadowy by the streetlights behind him, was frank and unguarded, maybe even a little bit vulnerable.

Now it was really time to go.

"Goodnight, Christian."

 

<0>

  
  
She called Nate during her lunch hour the next day, knowing he was deep into dinner prep at the restaurant and wouldn't answer his phone. She couldn’t tell anymore exactly what she was running away from.

"Hey, it's me. I decided to take the train up this weekend. I'll leave after work tonight, so see you when you get home....Love you."

 

<0>

  
  
_-How was your weekend?_   
  
_-Good. Went to Boston. Yours?_   
  
_-Boston?_   
  
_-Nate's in Boston._   
  
_-Right. I have a meeting down near Whitehall this afternoon. Do you have time for coffee?_   
  
_-Sorry, I'm swamped today._   
  
_-Okay, maybe some other time._   


<0>

  
 _  
-Hey, my friends are screening their documentary about Yemen tonight at Sunshine Cinemas. Are you free?  
_  
  
Andrea stared at Christian's text and considered. It was the third time he'd asked her to go do something in the past two weeks. She'd shut him down every time.  
She felt guilty about that night at the Perlman talk. Guilty for enjoying it so much, enjoying him. And as a result she'd been punishing herself, not allowing herself to see him even for coffee. But that wasn't fair to him, either. They were legitimately friends and friends hung out sometimes. If she was confused, that was her problem. Christian didn't deserve her distance.  
  
 _-Sounds great._  
   
His reply came back right away.

 _-Dinner before?_  
  
She smirked and typed out a reply.

_-Sure but I pick the place._   
  
_-Whatever the lady wishes. Just tell me where._   


 

<0>

  
  
  
Christian was comfortable at many levels of New York society, from glossy penthouses to pop-up art galleries in Brooklyn, but she suspected her restaurant choice was entirely off his radar.

It was a favorite of her college friends when they first moved to the city, a garishly lit gyro place with peeling linoleum, chipped Formica tables and amazing, cheap food.

"When you said you had something in mind I wasn't quite imagining this." Christian was grinning as he walked across the tiny restaurant to join her at the counter. Wow, how was even this too-bright flickering fluorescent light flattering to him? It made most people look like walking corpses but Christian looked like a Ralph Lauren model. So unfair.

"I'm going to demand that you refrain from criticizing until you taste the food. Best dinner in the city."

"I’ve eaten at Café Boulud, Per Se and Le Cirque.”

"Okay, best dinner in the city under ten bucks.”

By the time they had polished off their messy, delicious gyros, he was in full agreement.

"I don't think my stomach will ever be the same, but that was worth it," he said, wiping his hands on the thin, useless napkins from the dispenser on their table.

"Told you so. Just because it's not written up in Zagat's doesn't mean it isn't great."

"Point taken. And as much as I'd like to linger over another plate of that hummus, we'd better get going. There's a cocktail reception beforehand and I want to congratulate Scott and Ashley."

"Your friends?" she asked as they slid into their coats and headed for the door.

"Mm hmmm. I went to college with Scott, before he married Ashley. They've been working on this film for five years. They just got invited to show it at Sundance. It's great to see them finally getting some recognition for it."

Christian opened the door for her and as she moved past him, she nearly collided with Lily, coming in from outside.

"Andy!"

Lily! What are you doing here?"

Lily's eyes shot from Andy to Christian and back again. "Getting great gyros at our favorite place, just like you, it seems." Her voice was tight and her expression hard. Andy groaned internally. Still, if she didn't at least attempt polite introduction, this would look even worse.

"Lily, this is my friend, Christian Thompson. Christian, my friend from college, Lily Martin."

Christian extended his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Lily. You're a photographer, right? I remember your show at the Foreman Gallery last year. Great stuff."

Lily looked discomposed by the compliment but gave him a grudging "thank you."

Then she turned to Andy. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I'll just wait outside, Andy." Christian stepped out and Lily rounded on her.

"What the hell is this, Andy?"

"I'm going to a screening of a documentary by some of Christian's friends. Relax, Lily. We're just friends."

"I saw that guy prowling around you last year and it didn't look so friendly."

"That was a long time ago. He's not up to anything."

“He's one of those creeps from the dark side, I can tell. Of course he's up to something."

"Jesus, Lily, listen to yourself. How can you be so judgmental?"

"Me?? People in his crowd live to judge people. You know that better than anybody."

"Here's what I know about Christian. He's brilliant and generous with his time and attention. He's happy to read my stuff and give me advice because he happens to think I'm talented and he wants to see me succeed. And not just succeed in the way _he_ deems acceptable. He's gone out of his way to help me out more than once when he had nothing to gain."

"Are you sure he's got nothing to gain? Maybe he's helping you out so you think he's a nice guy and then you let your guard down."

"Yeah, he hinted around about it once. And when I told him I was back with Nate, he dropped it completely. He's been nothing but a good friend to me."

Andy was leaving out what happened in Paris, but did it really matter when the rest of it was true? When they'd reconnected, she'd drawn a line in the sand and Christian had never crossed it. She said they could only be friends and that's all he'd asked of her. She hadn't realized how much she respected him for that until she was stuck defending him to Lily.

"I can't believe you're sneaking around with this guy like it’s no big deal."

"Because it isn't! We're friends. Like you and me or me and Doug. How about you give me a little credit and trust that I wouldn't cheat on Nate?"

"After the past year, Andy, I can't say I'm sure I know what you'd do."

Andy took a shocked step backwards, blinking at Lily.

When she could find the words again, she took a deep breath. "You want to know why I'm friends with Christian? Because he likes me. _This_ me. All of it. Yes the past year changed me and you know what, Lily? I'm okay with that. I like who I am now. And I'm not willing to go back to being the Andy you knew in college just so you can feel more comfortable."

"Hey, I never asked you to."

"Really? Because you certainly seem to be judging me plenty for not being that girl anymore. So is it any wonder I want to hang out with someone who doesn't? If you'll excuse me, we're late."

Lily didn't say anything more as Andrea pushed past her. Out on the sidewalk Christian was waiting with his hands in his pockets.

"Is everything okay?"

"Not really, but let's go."

"Did it cause you some problems, your friend seeing us together?"

"Yeah, but that's not even the biggest issue. Lily just…wants me to keep being someone I'm not anymore."

"Ah, we've had this conversation before."

"Yes we have, and I don't feel like having it again, especially not with you. Now let's go have some fun, please."

"Absolutely."

 

<0>

  
  
The little lobby off the upstairs balcony had been set up to host a small reception for Ashley and Scott, the film makers, before the screening started. Christian was across the room congratulating Scott so Andrea sipped her wine out of a plastic cup and watched the room, still turning over that confrontation with Lily in her mind.

They'd patch things up again, no doubt. They'd been friends too long not to. But although the argument had left her shaking with a hollow feeling in her gut, as confrontations always did, she wasn't exactly sorry it had happened. Everything they'd said felt a long time coming. The further she got from her job at Runway, the more resentment she felt that her friends had been so unsupportive while she was there. Instead of commiserating with her over the difficulties, or even just silently standing back to give her space to figure it out, they'd become demanding and judgmental.

Maybe it was good that she and Lily had it out. Now Lily knew how she felt. Hopefully when they'd both calmed down they could talk it through.

The part of the fight she wasn't so comfortable with was the way she'd come rushing to Christian's defense. Lily's criticism of him had made her angrier than it should. And the fact of the matter was, she had a bunch of unresolved feelings about him that made this friendship they were pursuing a bit murky. She was going to have to make some decisions about things very soon.

"So you're the one who's scooped him up."

"Excuse me?" Andrea turned to face a tall thin blonde. It was Ashley, who Christian had introduced her to very briefly when they arrived.

"Christian. He's disappeared off the social scene for weeks. We've all noticed it. He's not going out with anybody and now it's clear why."

"Oh, no... We're not... We're just friends."

Ashley tipped her head to the side. "Hmmm. Maybe. But something's changed about him and it started with you."

"Look, I'm sorry if you think..."

Ashley cut her off, laughing and placing a hand on her arm. "No, it's a good thing. Christian's so personable a so freaking charming that he's friends with half of New York. But he spreads himself a little thin because of that and I've been worried. It's good to see him slow down and take stock. So thanks."

"I don't think I'm the reason he's changed."

Ashley smirked. "I suspect you are. Hey, I have to go. They're waving us in to start. It's really great to meet you, Andrea. I'm glad Christian found you."

She was gone before Andy could correct her. And then she wondered if she should. Hadn't Christian told her himself that she'd changed him? And now his friends had noticed a difference, too. That was a terrifying prospect. Maybe he hadn't forgotten all about Paris as she'd assumed. If that was true, then he was in this deeper than she'd thought and their friendship just got a whole lot more uncomfortable.

She was still frozen in the corner when Christian's voice snapped her out of it.

"Andy? There you are. It's starting."

The balcony was empty and the doors to the theater were closed. Christian crouched slightly, staring into her face. "Are you okay?"

"Do you still think about that night in Paris?" She hadn’t planned on asking him that. It just popped out. But maybe it was for the best, like the confrontation with Lily. It was time to get it all out and figure out what was really going on.

He leaned back slightly and exhaled. "Yeah, of course I do. All the damned time."

“But..."

"But you said friends and that's what I'm trying to do here."

She squeezed her eyes shut, more conflicted than she'd ever been in her life. "Christian..."

Then she felt him lean in, the heat from his body and the mouthwatering smell of his aftershave. His fingertips skated across her cheek, finding their way into her hair at the nape of her neck. She could feel his breath on her lips but she kept her eyes closed. Opening them would mean facing this choice head on. He was _so_ close. She could feel his mouth just an inch from hers. Every nerve ending tingled, stretching out to him, wanting him to make the choice and close the distance.

"I tried to steal you away from your boyfriend once, Andrea, and it was a disaster. I'm not going to try it again. Yes, I want you. More than I've wanted anybody in a very long time. And I think... I think we could have something really great together. But I can't make this choice. You have to. And I promise, I'll respect whatever you choose."

Then he shifted to the side and pressed his lips to her cheek, just shy of her mouth. It took everything she had not to reach out and grab hold of him. She fisted her hands at her sides to keep from doing it. But he was absolutely right. She would not cross this line with him. She may have changed a lot, but not that much.

Christian stepped back. Andy felt like her knees were too weak to hold her up.

"We should go in," he said softly.

She gave a shaky nod and pushed off the wall, keeping a safe, respectable two feet of space between them. The distance hardly mattered though. The damage was already done.

 

<0>

 

She called out sick at work the next day, a Friday, and took the train up to Boston. She had to sort this out in her head and she couldn't do that in a Skype call. Right now she wasn’t being fair to anyone, including herself. Something had to give, somebody had to go, probably Christian. Since Nate had been there first, he deserved her full commitment. But she wasn’t cutting Christian out of her life until she’d sat across from Nate and reassured herself that she was choosing right.

 

<0>

  
  
Nate was slouched back in his chair, swirling his wine in his glass, pinching the stem between two fingers in a way that had always secretly bugged her.

The remnants of their dinner (whatever hadn't sold well at the Oak Room that night, of course) were scattered across their plates. She was telling him about a minor crisis that has occurred at the paper in the past week. She'd been assigned to cover Al Sharpton's press conference and when she'd shown up, the photographer who was supposed to be there with her had texted that he was in the hospital with  appendicitis. The paper frantically called around and came up empty with all their regular freelancers.

"So I called Emily and—"

"Who's Emily?"

"You remember Emily. The first assistant at Runway."

"You called _her_?"

"Yes, I called her, and she saved my ass. She gave me the number of a guy who'd done a little work as an assistant on a shoot for Runway last month. He’s new in town and desperate to work. He was delighted to hear from me and showed up twenty minutes later with his camera. So I saved the day. Well, me and Emily."

"I'm not sure I'd trust anybody that witch sent my way."

Andrea clenched her teeth in frustration. What she didn't tell Nate was that it hadn't been the first time she and Emily had spoken. Not by far.

Emily called the first time a week after Andy left, needing the password to one of the protected files on Andy's old computer. Andy had asked her how things were going, just to be polite, and Emily launched into a ten minute diatribe on all the failings of the new second assistant. Andy thought maybe it was just Emily's dig at her for quitting and leaving her to train someone else, until Emily called a week later looking for the backup key to Miranda's private bathroom. Andy knew there were two backup keys and the other one was on Emily's key ring. So when Andy asked her how things were going this time, she wasn't surprised that Emily spent fifteen minutes unloading about Miranda's latest insane demand. The next time Emily called she didn't even have a good excuse. She just needed to vent. She called about once a week to vent. Andy had even taken her out for drinks after one egregiously bad day. She wouldn't exactly describe Emily as a friend, but she was definitely an associate. A weird sort of colleague. And a contact she could call on in a pinch, like with the photographer.

"I don't think you know enough about Emily to judge, Nate."

"I know all I need to know about her and the rest of those magazine head cases."

"I was one of those magazine head cases for nearly a year."

"That's not the same. You have a soul. And a brain."

Andy slammed her wine glass down hard enough to send some splashing out on the table. "That's enough."

Nate blinked slowly in surprise. "What's the problem?"

"Whatever else I could say about the people at Runway—and _I_ get to say it, because I know them, not you—nobody there is an idiot. And it's pretty low of you to pass some blanket judgment on them because they're not just like you—"

Nate threw up his hands. "Jesus, after all this time you're still drinking the Kool-Aid."

She looked at him across the table, this man she'd been with since she was nineteen, and could no longer remember why. He seemed to belong to some other part of her life, somewhere in her past, like the first boy she kissed or her senior prom date.

She leaned forward on her elbows. "Nate, this just isn't working. I've been trying to give this a shot—"

" _You've_ been trying?"

She blinked. "Taking the train up to Boston every other weekend? Yes, I've been trying."

"Well, so have I. It's been hard to get past what you put me through for the past year but I've been trying to—"

"What _I_ put you through? I had a job half of New York would kill for, and yes it sucked but did you once try and support me while I tried to do my best at it? No, you just complained that I wasn't home enough."

"That job turned you into a stranger!"

Andy sat back. "Well then if I'm a stranger then I guess you won't miss me all that much."

"Andy..."

"No, Nate, you were right last spring. We don't have anything in common anymore. You don't like who I've become and I can't turn back into the girl you fell in love with. I don't want to. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm always apologizing to you for last year. Because I've come to realize, I'm not really all that sorry about it. In the end, that job was great for me. If you can't or won't acknowledge that, then you don't want me to be who I want to be."

Nate stared into his wine glass. "You sound like you've been giving this a lot of thought."

"I have been. I've been beating myself up trying to figure out how to make us fit together again and I think the answer is... I can't. I think this is over, Nate."

"You think it is?"

She stood up. "I _know_ it is. I'm gonna grab my stuff and catch the train back to New York."

"So this is it?"

"I've known you forever, Nate. We'll always be friends."

"Friends."

"Yeah, friends."

She turned away from the table and headed to Nate's bedroom to pack her bag. She was sad, of course. Nate was a huge chapter in her life and closing the door on it was hard. But in its place, a new door had opened and she knew it was past time that she walked through it.

 <0>

  
She called Lily on the train ride back to New York, to tell her about Nate but also to see where they stood after their blow up. It was a little tense and awkward, but Lily seemed to be carefully watching what she said, as if Andy's words had made her rethink how she'd acted and what she'd said. Maybe they wouldn't ever get back to where they had been before, but maybe sometimes people don't. You grow up, you evolve. Sometimes your old friends stay with you for that and sometimes they head off in their own direction. It remained to be seen what path Lily would take.  
  
The next call was trickier, so she didn't call, she texted.  
  
 _-Hey, are you free tonight?  
_  
Christian always did the inviting when they got together. She hadn't ever initiated a meeting with him. Her hands were shaking slightly as she did it. He replied just a few moments later.  
  
 _-Absolutely. Where and when?_

<0>

 

On the occasions when they'd met for drinks after she got off work, it was at a place near the paper. But since it was a Saturday, she met him at a bar near his place in TriBeCa. He was there when she got there, at a high top table in the corner near the back.

"Hey," he said as she approached. "Is everything okay? I thought you were in Boston this weekend."

"Um, I was. I came home early."

Christian raised one eyebrow in that way she'd always envied. He didn't even need to say anything. The eyebrow did all his talking.

"I broke up with Nate."

"I see. Are you alright?"

They were interrupted by the waitress coming to get their order. When she left, Andy took a sip of her water to steady her nerves.

"I'm probably better than I should be, considering how long we've been together."

"Did he... did something happen?"

"Are you asking me if he cheated on me or something?"

"It wouldn't be unheard of. Long distance is hard."

"The distance wasn't the problem. It was us. We grew apart and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't grow us back together again."

"Right."

The waitress silently deposited their drinks in front of them. Andy fidgeted with hers, turning it back and forth on the cocktail napkin and running her fingertip through the condensation on the sides. "Nate wasn't the one with conflicted feelings. I was."

Christian was silent across the table from her and she couldn't bring herself to look up at him. The silence was so oppressive she felt it creeping up the back of her neck. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and glanced up at him. He was leaning forward on his elbows watching her, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. His smirk was infuriating and beautiful, too.

"What?" she finally said in desperation. "I say that and you have no response?"

"Andy, you already know how I feel about it."

"See, no I don't. What I know is that I'm insanely attracted to you. And I know I have these complicated feelings for you that have me so twisted up inside that I just broke up with the guy I've been dating since I was nineteen. And here's what I know about you. I know that we're friends. I know you're attracted to me. I know you slept with me and liked it and I know you want to do it again. But I don't have a clue what's going on in your head. I just took this giant leap off a ledge and I have no idea what it is you're really looking for. Are you just looking for a repeat of Paris? Because if that's the case, we'd better just stay friends."

Christian held her gaze for another moment, then he abruptly sat back and reached inside his jacket for his wallet.

"What are you doing?"

He threw a handful of bills on the table—far more than their drinks had cost—and stood up. "Come on." He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Where are we going?"

"Out of here," he said over his shoulder as he strode through the bar, towing her after. Outside on the sidewalk he kept going until they were around the corner on Staple Street, a street so narrow and lightly traveled it was practically an alley. He spun around so abruptly she nearly ran into him. Then one hand was on her waist and the other curled around the back of her neck and he was backing her into the side of the building. Then his lips were on hers, a hot, desperate kiss that left her gasping and gripping his shoulders for support.

"You want to know what I'm thinking, Andy?" he whispered against her lips when they finally paused. He raised his other hand and cradled her face in his palms, leaning back to look her in the eye. "I'm thinking that I'm crazy about you. I wasn't looking for it but it happened anyway, even when it seemed like you didn't want me back, which I can tell you has never happened to me before. I can tell you that when the Runway deal blew up in Paris, I was more upset that I'd disappointed you than I was about the job that I'd just lost. I'm thinking that all of this means I want you in my life in a pretty significant way, and not for some meaningless repeat of Paris. I want to talk to you about writing and art and politics. I want to go see concerts with you and travel with you. I want to spend time with you and have dinner with you and breakfast the next morning and yeah, I want to sleep with you, too, because you drive me to distraction you're so beautiful."

"Oh."

He smirked. "I say all that to you and that's all you have to say?"

"You said everything I was thinking. You've pretty much covered all the bases."

His eyes darkened. "I'm pretty sure there are some bases we haven't covered yet. At least not for quite a while."

Andy smiled in return, running her fingertips through his hair where it curled against his collar. "Maybe we should do something about that."

"My place is a few blocks from here."

"I know."

He blinked once, surprised that she had already imagined it, going home with him.

"Unless you want to get dinner first?" she asked innocently.

"We'll order in later."

"Later."

"After."

It was the thing about Christian that she never quite got used to, his unambiguous, forthright desire for her. It was insanely hot.

"And then what are we gonna do?"

He shrugged and grinned. "Whatever we want."

"Right. We have all weekend, I guess."

He curled a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. "Andy, we have a lot longer than a weekend. We have all the time in the world. And I'm starting to think I want to spend all of it with you."

 


End file.
